


Adjusting to the Scent of Ivy

by Duck_Life



Category: Fantastic Four (Comicverse), Marvel (Comics), X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: College, Drinking, Friendship, Gen, Light Angst, Silver Age, Smoking, Superheroes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-08
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-08-11 19:54:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20159176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Duck_Life/pseuds/Duck_Life
Summary: Jean Grey is enrolled at Metro College at the same time as Johnny Storm and Wyatt Wingfoot. Hijinks and heart-to-hearts ensue.(Title from a memorable quotation by one of the most memorable X-Men characters of all time, Jean's pal Ted Roberts.)





	Adjusting to the Scent of Ivy

**Author's Note:**

> "The Human Torch is a student here! Wouldn't he flip to find out he isn't the only superhero on campus!"  
Warren Worthington III, Uncanny X-Men #24

When the familiar blond guy slides into the seat across from her, Jean’s first instinct is to panic. It’s not like she’s been  _ avoiding _ Johnny Storm (although, yes, the library was sort of the last place she expected to see him.) She’s just not going out of her way to seek him out. College is supposed to be a fresh start for her, a little slice of normalcy. 

If the Human Torch figures out that she’s Marvel Girl, that normalcy goes away. 

Johnny pulls out a notebook and a textbook and thunks them on the table. Then he glances up at her. “Hey,” he says, offering up an admittedly charming smile. 

“Hi,” Jean says, hoping her expression at least looks polite when she spares a fleeting look at him before returning her gaze to her notes. The less eye contact they make, the lower the chances of him figuring it out. 

Johnny drums his fingers on the table, apparently unable to sit still. “Don’t I know you from somewhere?” 

“No, I don’t think so,” Jean says, studiously looking down. “I just started this semester.” 

“You look familiar,” Johnny says. He squints at her, and his gaze burns about as much as his fire. 

“I’ve just got one of those faces,” Jean insists. 

Johnny holds one hand up in front of his eyeline. It takes Jean second to realize that he’s covering up the top half of her face. Because… because he’s used to seeing her in a cowl. 

“Okay, ha, I’ve gotta go,” she says, scooping up her belongings and dumping them in her bookbag. “I’ll, um, I’ll see you around, Johnny.”

She almost makes it to the door before he calls out, “I didn’t tell you my name, Red.” 

Well. Crap. 

Jean turns around, chewing on her lip and trying to decide what to do. Technically, she could just leave, but who knows what Johnny will do? Follow her? Tell all his friends that a member of the X-Men goes to Metro? 

“I, um. I recognized you from TV,” she lies. “You’re the Human Torch. You’re kind of a rockstar, you know.”

“Oh, I know,” he says, grinning. “And what does that make you?” 

She drops her bookbag back on the floor and flops back into her seat. “I am enrolled here as a  _ student _ ,” she says carefully, leaning over the table toward him. “I’m not here to be a… a  _ superhero _ , or whatever.”

Johnny’s just grinning, bouncing a little in his seat. “I knew it!” he whispers. “I knew I knew you. You’re that chick who’s friends with Iceman.”

Jean sits back in her chair. “Oh God, is that my identifier?” 

“What can I say? He leaves an impression,” Johnny shrugs. “Oh, man, my roommate’s gonna think this is hilarious.”

“What? No, no, don’t tell your roommate,” Jean says. “Don’t tell anyone! I’m just here to be…  _ normal _ . I’m just trying to be a normal kid. Like everyone else.” 

Johnny’s forehead wrinkles up, like he’s trying to process that. He says, “Sue palled around with you for a while, I remember that. She was like. Teaching you to be a hero and stuff.” 

“Yeah.”

“Alright. Lemme ask you something, Marve—”

“Jean,” she says, frowning. “My name’s Jean.”

“Jean then,” he continues. “What do you actually know about being a ‘normal kid’?” 

She opens her mouth. Then closes it. Much as she hates to admit it, he might have a point. She’s been working on honing her telekinetic abilities since she was 12 years old. While other kids took piano lessons on the weekend, she went to Westchester to get mutant coaching from Charles Xavier. “High school” was a series of near-death experiences, teen angst and dinosaurs. 

“Not… a lot,” she admits.

“Uh-huh,” Johnny says, grinning at her. “Well, seeing as my sister taught you stuff about how to be a superhero—”

“Keep your voice down!” she warns. 

“... seems only fair I teach you something, too,” he says. He’s like a dog with a bone. Specifically a golden retriever. 

“What are you going to teach me? Fire safety?” she scoffs. 

“I’m gonna teach you how to have fun in college and still get stuff done,” he says, bouncy and smiley but completely serious. “I’m gonna teach you how to put the mask away and just be yourself, no powers needed. And, most importantly… I’m gonna teach you that there’s no such thing as ‘a normal kid.’”

Jean stares at him. She wants to blow him off and walk out. She wants to quit Metro and go back to Westchester (she wants that every damn day). She kind of wants to roll her eyes at Johnny Storm and remind him that he’s not a mutant and he doesn’t  _ get it _ .

Except, well, it seems like he kind of does. He gets some of it, at least. Things that she’s feeling that she can’t exactly talk to Ted or her hallmates about. Things that you don’t understand unless you’re used to putting on a costume and fighting Unus the Untouchable or Dr. Doom. 

“... Fine,” Jean says. “Truth is… I guess I could use a friend.” 

Johnny’s face splits into a wide grin, and she’s almost glad she decided to trust him. Almost. The second his roommate shows up, Johnny excitedly grabs his wrist and says, “Wyatt Wyatt Wyatt, look who’s here! It’s Marvel Girl!”

“Dude!” Jean hisses across the table. 

“Sorry,” he whispers back, still beaming up at a perplexed Wyatt. “It’s you-know-who from the you-know-what-men.” 

“Ah,” Wyatt says, taking the seat next to Johnny. “Pleased to… meet you?”

“Hi,” Jean says, extending her hand. “I’m Jean.”

“Wyatt,” he says. “Newly enrolled?”

“Yup,” she says. “And apparently the hothead’s going to teach me how to fit in.” 

Wyatt smiles. “Good luck to both of you. You’re gonna need it.” He opens his textbook and starts studying, leaving Johnny to make faces at Jean across the table. 

This semester is certainly going to be interesting. 

* * *

  
  


Johnny lets loose a barrage of flame and knocks down three of the five beer cans he’d meticulously set up. “Damn,” he sighs, still unable to hit all five. He pushes away from the fence and goes to reset the cans for Jean. “Your turn, carrottop.” 

“What part of this is ‘normal kid’ stuff?” Jean asks, eyeing the cans and taking aim. 

“I told you,” Johnny says, standing back to watch her. “No such thing. Hit the cans, Marvel Girl.” 

Using her telekinesis, Jean gets a handle on one of the cans and tips it to the side, letting their momentum carry through like a row of dominoes. All five cans fall off the wooden crate. Johnny whistles. 

“You’re really somethin’, you know that?” he says, going to once again reset the cans. “Wyatt, your turn!”

“My turn?” Wyatt says, glancing up from the paperback mystery novel he brought with them to the trail. “I don’t have superpowers, dope.” 

“Don’t worry, I thought of everything,” Johnny says, and he proudly holds out a slingshot. “Here you go.”

“You’re an idiot,” Wyatt says, but he takes the slingshot. Johnny hands him a few small rocks he collected off the ground. “I win anything if I get more than you?”

Johnny pretends to be offended. “What could be a better prize than your very own slingshot?” he says. “I even had it customized.”

Wyatt glances down. The initials “WW” are scrawled in marker on the frame of the slingshot. “Classy,” he says, and slips one rock into the pouch. He pulls back the band, aims and shoots. 

In the end, Wyatt knocks down four out of five cans. “Go Wyatt!” Jean cheers, opening up the sixth beer in the pack Johnny had purchased. 

“Looks like I did better than you, Johnny,” Wyatt points out, grinning at his friend. “You should tell Reed to put me on retainer.”

“Har-har,” Johnny says. “Listen, that second beer just hit my bladder. Be back in a jiff.” He jogs off into the woods. Wyatt rolls his eyes. 

“He’s such a dork,” Jean sighs fondly. 

“Man, I know,” Wyatt says, fiddling with his gifted slingshot. “He tries to come off like the coolest kid on the block but he’s a complete goofball.”

* * *

  
  


One morning Johnny runs up to Jean outside the Kampus Koffee Shop, looking mildly winded. “Listen, uh,” he starts, glancing around almost as if he’s being pursued. “My barbershop quartet needs me, ifyaknowwhatImean.” 

It’s early, and she hasn’t had her coffee yet, so it takes Jean a moment to realize he means the Fantastic Four. “Oh!” she says, instantly curious about what the emergency is. “Okay. Do you need my help?”

“No!” he says quickly. And then— “Actually, yeah. I’m supposed to turn in an essay to my prof’s office before 3:30. You think you could…?”

“Totally,” she says, though a part of her aches to join in on the action. 

“Great! You’re the best!” Johnny fishes his essay out of his backpack and reels off his professor’s name and office number. “Haveagooddaygottagobye!!” 

As Jean gets to the front of the line to order her coffee, she’s pretty sure she sees a streak of fire in the sky outside. 

* * *

That night, Jean drops by Wyatt and Johnny’s room to check in. She finds Johnny pacing furiously around the room while Wyatt chases after him with athletic tape and a tube of Bengay. “Goddammit,” Johnny groans, kicking the wall of the dorm room before continuing on his warpath. It’s like he doesn’t even notice Jean’s there.

“Is he alright?” Jean says, looking to Wyatt.

Wyatt shrugs apologetically. “He… he gets like this, sometimes,” he explains. “He’ll be fine.” 

“So  _ stupid _ ,” Johnny says, rearing back like he’s going to punch the wall. His fist flames up, as if he’s not even aware of what he’s doing. 

“Okay, whoa,” Wyatt says, coming up behind him and putting his arms around Johnny. “Bring it down to a simmer.” Johnny struggles a little, and for a second, Jean wonders if he’s actually about to fight Wyatt. But he just extinguishes his hand and leans back against Wyatt’s chest. 

“I can’t protect Sue, I can’t help Reed,” he says miserably, staring off at one corner of the cramped dorm room. “I mean, if all it takes to take me out of the fight is some  _ sand _ …” 

“Sandman’s more than just that,” Wyatt points out.

“Still.” Wyatt’s grip loosens and Johnny slips away, takes a seat on his side of the room. “Maybe Sandman's more than just sand, but I’m nothing more than a Bic lighter with a pretty face,” Johnny sighs, sagging against his bed.

Wyatt glances at Jean and drops into a nature documentary narrator’s voice. “Watch carefully. See how even when he’s down, he finds a way to compliment himself.” 

Wyatt grabs the fuchsia blanket off his own bed and drapes it over Johnny’s shoulders. Johnny shrugs it off. “I’m not  _ cold _ , Wyatt.” 

“Suit yourself.” 

Wyatt sits down beside him and, despite Johnny’s claims of not being cold, he curls into Wyatt like a baby penguin huddling for warmth. Jean plops down on Wyatt’s bed and watches the two of them. 

Johnny usually reminds her of Bobby— goofy, jittery, and kind of immature. This is a side of him she hasn’t seen before, defeated and stubborn, furious at himself for not being perfect. In seeking a frame of reference, Jean realizes he’s acting a little like Scott right now. Like he’s carrying every mistake he’s ever made on his shoulders. 

Wyatt’s rubbing his shoulders now, working small circles into Johnny’s upper back. Whether that’s to soothe his strained muscles or his wounded pride, Jean’s not sure. Maybe it’s doing both. 

“I… I turned your essay in,” Jean says, feeling suddenly as if she’s intruding on an intensely private moment, something between a Norman Rockwell painting and the kinds of artsy movies Vera and Zelda used to drag her to. 

“Thanks,” Johnny says, giving her a weak smile. “At least I’m scraping by okay in one corner of my life.” 

Wyatt pauses in his ministrations to cuff Johnny on the side of the head. “Quit moping,” he says. “Everyone made it out okay, yeah? I’m not gonna have to iron my suit for Reed’s funeral or something, right?”

“Yes,” Johnny says.

“Well, okay,” Wyatt says, moving his hands down to knead the knot between Johnny’s shoulder blades. “You’re okay. Everything’s okay. Jean, tell him everything’s okay.”

“Everything’s okay,” Jean says. 

* * *

Jean doesn’t have any classes with Johnny, but she and Wyatt have Art History 120 together. When she starts drifting off during a lecture on the impressionists, Wyatt pokes her with the end of his pencil. 

“Wha…” she mumbles intelligently, jerking awake. “Oh. Thanks, Wy,” she whispers.

“Late night?” 

“Giant bugs,” she tells him. 

Johnny meets up with them when class lets out. “So,” he says casually, falling in step between Jean and Wyatt, “I hear the esteemed Dr. Hopper was dismissed from faculty.” He smirks at Jean. “Anything you would know about?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says, flipping her hair. “But I’ll never see a cockroach the same way again.” 

* * *

“I don’t get it,” Jean says, passing the joint to Wyatt. “Why  _ don’t _ you want to be on the football team?”

“It’s what everyone expects,” he says. “Because of my dad. But I’m not here to play football. I’m here to get an education.” He glances down. “Oops. Johnny, can you—?”

“Yeah,” he says, and he leans over, flames dancing on his fingertips. 

And really, Jean really should be getting to bed. She’s running on fumes these days, spending her weekends in Westchester and her weeknights struggling through mountains of homework and assigned reading. For all the fuss she made about leaving the X-Men behind, she’s still going on missions with them. She’s still got her Marvel Girl costume hanging in her closet. She even took home economics so she could have access to the school sewing machines and make Scott and the guys all-new, all-different costumes. 

So yeah. She’s exhausted. She shouldn’t be out here on a Thursday night, smoking weed and stargazing with Wyatt and Johnny. But damn, it’s kind of the only place she wants to be right now. 

“What is it like?” Jean asks Johnny, looking up at the sky. It’s a surprisingly clear night for New York, and she can make out quite a few constellations. “Flying through space?”

“It’s like…” Johnny sighs and tilts his head back. “It’s like… you’ve never felt so small.” 

* * *

It’s a sunny afternoon. Jean’s lying on a blanket in the quad, stretched out on her stomach while she flips through her English textbook. Johnny is using her back as a pillow, with his feet propped up on Wyatt’s legs. 

“You know,” Jean says, holding her page with one finger, “when my parents told me they expected me to go to college, I was  _ so _ pissed off. I was… angry at them, I was angry at the world.” She looks over at Wyatt and Johnny, at the campus stretching out behind them. “But you know what? … This is alright.” 

“Pass me a Sno Ball, Marvel Girl,” Johnny says, and Jean elbows him in the side but she does telekinetically float one of the Sno Balls in her bookbag over to him, and he gets coconut all over his chin and Wyatt laughs at him, and Jean goes back to studying and the sun gets lower in the sky and turns everything a dull orange glow and, yeah, it’s alright. Everything’s okay. 


End file.
